


The Gift of Bread

by MelancholicMemories



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Flavorful Descriptions (Pun intended), Gen, Parable, Short Story, Wholesome, aesthetic, takes place in England
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 12:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelancholicMemories/pseuds/MelancholicMemories
Summary: A short, wholesome parable about a woman and fresh bread.





	The Gift of Bread

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a fan work, but I hope you enjoy this anyways!

It was a dreary mid-October afternoon. There was a light layer of fog in the air, accompanying the light drizzle that fell from the monochrome sky.

A sudden icy breeze caressed a young woman’s face, and a puff of steam escaped her rosy lips. She shivered. As she broke from her reverie, she continued to trudge down the cracked pavement.

Turning a corner, the woman could see a tungsten glow from the corner of her eye. There it was; the bakery. With a faint smile tugging at her lips, she jogged towards the entrance.

With the soft chime of a bell, the woman entered the bakery. It was a pleasant, homely place; a couple of wood tables lined the windows, and an open hearth behind the counter was flickering from the crackling flame within it.

She walked upon the mahogany floors, which seemed to quietly groan under her boots. The baker noticed her and turned around with a smile on his face.

“Good day, Miss. What may I get for you?”

"Good afternoon, sir. Could I get a loaf of sourdough, please?”

“£5, please.”

The woman was a little stunned. £5? That’s expensive for bread! She checked her satchel and noticed she had exactly £5. How convenient. She handed the baker the £5 note, and waited for the bread to bake.

Once the bread was done cooking, she paid the baker and took the bread, curtly thanking him. With another chime of a bell, she stepped outside to the frigid landscape before her.

She took a bite of her bread. The sourdough was quite hearty. The warmth from the heat that was slowly escaping the dough seemed to heat the woman’s entire body, blocking out the biting autumnal temperatures of England.

As she continued, she noticed a shivering, frail man. She halts. The man appeared almost skeletal; a sad, shivering pile of bones on the ground. It made her heart hurt. He looked like he needed something to eat.

She wanted for this man to eat, but she had used the last of her spare money on the sourdough. She wanted to eat the entire thing and experience the burst of flavor inside the soft loaf.

After debating for a moment, she decided to walk up to the man. She broke the bread in half and handed one half to the man. The man looked up at her, at first astounded, but soon a look of raw hope filled his eyes. As well as tears.

With a gracious thank you, the man devoured the bread as if he had never eaten before. And the woman, eating her own half of bread, smiled. What a delightful feeling she experienced; the gift of bread.


End file.
